Bliss
by CarrotMuffin
Summary: Bliss. That is the only word I know to define what our nighttime adventures are to me. It is not perfection, for every time we join bodies, it is better than the last. Nick reflects on his definition of bliss and how Greg fits into it. SLASH!


Hi hi everybody! This is the first CSI fanfic I've ever written, so I really hope you like it, and pretty please with a cherry on the top leave me a quick review!!

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, which I am actually thankful for. I much rather just sit back and take what they deliver. Plus it's not like we can say that they're not doing a great job…

Bliss.

That is the only word I know to define what our nighttime adventures are to me. It is not perfection, for every time we join bodies, it is better than the last. Bliss is every fistful of hair used to yank back a head and orally attack a succulent neck. It is every deep, hearty moan or scream, every amazingly angled thrust, and every wave of pleasure rolling off of us and onto a sandy beach of orgasm, after orgasm, after orgasm. He is the bliss in my world.

He is my bliss with his spontaneity, his complete lack of discomfort toward anything at all, so long as it's with me. He trusts me so blindly, so wonderfully. It's really thanks to him that I've done most of the things I've done, that I know my likes and dislikes- in the bedroom at least (or on the sofa, in the kitchen, wherever he prefers, really). The first time that I tasted him it was only because he had done the same to me so many times before. He may be the receiver in the relationship, but he is also the dominant, the one takes charge, and the one who controls.

He is my bliss with his knowledge of not only who I am, but also how I am and what I want. Long day at work; rough and dry. Boring day; sensual and slow with a lot of teasing and foreplay.

Bliss is how well our bodies fit together, how I seem to fill him to the brim and he sheaths me completely. Bliss is saying, _I love you_, without ever parting my lips. Bliss is watching his flat, pale chest softly rise and fall as he sleeps after out activities, as I am shamelessly doing right now.

Bliss is the fact that I have been with this man for so little time, but I've watched him so often that I know exactly how many freckles are lightly dusted over his neck and cheeks. It's that I know all of this, and I'm not just biding my time, waiting for the right moment to announce that it's over. This is not just a prolonged one-night stand with benefits. I could stare at him forever. I _want_ to stare at him forever. And I need him to let me.

He's waking up now. He always does when I stare at him for too long, as if he knows my ritual's schedule off by heart.

"Mmmff…" He lets out the cutest groans upon waking. Then he slips his arms around my waist, leans his head against my shoulder or my chest, whichever is more accessible at the moment, and breathes…and he has the audacity to tell me _I'm_ predictable. Dear God, I love this man.

"You starin' at me again?" I think he's trying to mock-glare me, but it's just making him go cross-eyed.

"Yeah."

"Be careful or I'll start thinking crazy things, like that you stare at me so much because you secretly find me hideous and the only reason we're still together is that you don't know how to break it off…"

I can't help but be amazed at not only his overly active imagination, but also his insecurity. I would never have pegged him to be an insecure guy, but he really has low self-esteem when it comes to relationships.

"You're gorgeous." I state simply, and he sighs that sigh of his that seems to say 'if you say so' in a disbelieving tone of voice and burrows himself further into the confine of my arms. This is usually the point at which he crawls up to me and gives me the highlight of my morning, but he doesn't move and his lips stay so close, yet so far away from my own.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He doesn't move. "G…Greg?"

Trust him to fall asleep on me like that- literally. He's been so tired lately, and out so often. I know I shouldn't dwell on things like that, but sometimes I can't help it.

Bliss lies in the knowledge that he will be there when I get home, in the thought that perhaps he also spends countless hours pondering the last three months of his life. The best three months of my life. Our life.

Then again, bliss also lies in ignoring the stabbing pain in my heart and gut and soul when I wake up alone and know by the deafening silence filling every crevice of my surroundings, that the man I love is not here with me. Our relationship has no restrictions; we never laid any down. We have never voiced our feelings for one-another save through the loud groans that fill his apartment when we mesh.

I don't want to share him, but I'll take whatever I can get, whatever he is willing to give, for however long he is willing to give it to me for. He needs more than me, more than what I have to offer, and I understand that, but I will never be okay with it. Bliss is ignorance, and ignorance is bliss.

So I will continue to ignore the fear that grips my heart every time I go to his place unannounced and strain my ears before entering the apartment just to be sure that no one else is in there with him. I will continue to ignore the anxiety I have begun to feel when we make love, squash the fear that he will come screaming another man's name.

I wish that I could say that I would be content to just to love him, but that would be a lie. The point of loving someone is to be loved in return, preferably by the same person.

He's gotten up now and is slowly padding around the room, pulling on whatever he finds. It's his apartment and yet he somehow manages to end up wearing my shirt and sweat pants. I wonder if he does that on purpose.

"Want some coffee?"

Of course coffee is the first thing he thinks about. He's walking towards me now, and where once he would have made a show of even that, now it's just a walk. He's just moving his hips with the intent to move foreword. What happened to the exuberant lover I discovered three months ago? Did he get bored of me _that_ quickly? Maybe…maybe not…

He stoops down to where I'm sitting on the low bed and pecks me on the lips. I barely have time to kiss him back before he pulls away. Neither of us have particularly bad morning breath, but for the past few weeks, we've barely joined lips in the morning before he skips off to work only to come back hours later than he should, exhausted, too exhausted to eat and smelling like he's just washed the smell of something off of himself with cleaner from the lab.

I don't want to start a fight, and I wish that I trusted him enough not to have to ask this, but I have to know, I can't hold it in anymore. I just can't.

"Greg, have you been seeing someone else?" I'm trying to remain calm because if I don't I'll feel the need to cry, but in order not to, I'll get angry. He looks so confused and tired that I just want to wrap my arms around him and take back the awful question, but it's too late.

"What? …Why would I _cheat_ on you?"

"I dunno, Greg, but I have to ask. We never set down any rules, so I need to know. Have you been seeing anyone else?"

He rushes to wipe away a few stray tears that have spilled down onto his cheeks before answering. "_No_, I have not."

His voice is shaky. There is no way that only my question caused all of this. "G, what's wrong?"

More tears are starting to flow as he pushes his face into his hands and turns away, almost as if he's ashamed of them. "Greg, I believe you, it's okay, I just had to ask, and now it's over. You've just been so tired lately, and coming home at all hours of the day and night. We haven't had sex in a week and a half because we barely even see each other anymore…"

My words are not having the desired effect. His shoulders are hunched over in an attempt to stop them from shaking. Tears are spilling through his fingers to run down his wrists and soak his –_my­_- shirtsleeves. "Shit, Greg, I'm sorry." I'm by his side in a blink and reach out to hold him, but he lurched back before I can envelope him in a hug. That hurts. I deserve it, but that hurts a lot more than I thought it would.

"I'll make the coffee now, we have to get to work. Go shower and get dressed. I'll have breakfast ready for you when you get out. Egg McMuffin, alright?"

Somehow his voice doesn't waver, and he walks out of the bedroom before I can contest. Well there's nothing more that I can do apart from shower and get dressed. I may have just ruined the only thing I have left to live for, but I still have responsibilities at work. God, I can feel the sarcasm oozing out of my thoughts.

When I walk into the kitchen refreshed and clothed, I find a single egg on a plate, a mug of coffee in front of it, and no Greg to be found.

"Greg, you still here?" I call out.

A soft sigh from behind the table catches my attention and I watch as my lover rises into view. He had clearly collapsed there after having set out my breakfast for me. He is still crying, this time with a crumpled tissue clutched in his hand. I feel so terrible right now. I deserve for him to leave me for that, but I can't voice my emotions. I couldn't deal with it if he agreed. "Eat before it gets cold, alright? I'm going to shower and get ready. Don't wait for me; I don't know what traffic is going to be like and I don't want you to be late on my account. We'll…we'll talk tonight, ok?"

And he's gone once more. He hasn't looked at me once since I asked the fatal question. I hear the shower turn on as I begin eating my egg, and turn off as I finish it. Next goes the coffee, delicious as usual. Heeding his advice, I grab my keys, gun, and cell phone, put on my jacket and walk out his front door, unsure as to whether or not this is one of the last times I'll be doing it. I know that Greg won't be eating, he's barely been eating one snack a day for the past month, but I can't do anything about it, especially not now.

Work goes by quickly and without major event; I got a B&E solo, which was easily solved once I found one of the perp's hairs in a hat that he accidentally left behind. I haven't however, seen Greg all night, and I'm worried that he won't be home when I get there. I need to talk to him, explain that I love him- actually say it for once and not just settle at feeling it.

When I get back to the lab I'm pumped full of determined energy, ready to tell, not ask but tell my boss that I am leaving the office early. I'm going to go to Greg, force him to eat something and tell him that I had only freaked out that morning because I love him exclusively and had needed to know if he felt the same way about me. As I walk into Grissom's office though, and watch him place his phone back on its cradle with a sombre look on his face, a horrible feeling settles in my gut and heart. Something's not right.

"Nick, close the door and grab a seat. We need to talk."

I do as I'm told. I want to ask something, anything, but I don't know what, and I'm so stuck on Greg right now that I'm afraid whatever I say will give our relationship away. I can't tell anyone, not without his consent. So I sit and wait, feeling eerily like I did when I was a teenager in my principal's office, squirming in my chair and trying to figure out what I did wrong. He takes a breath, fixes me with an unusually warm stare, and begins to speak in what can only be qualified as a patronizing tone of voice.

"Nick, I was just on the phone with Greg-"

As soon as I hear my boyfriend's name, scenarios start running through my mind, so many that a few of them have no where to go but out. "Oh God, did he ask for a change of shift? Is he transferring? He's not, right? What-"

He holds up his hand. "Please, let me speak. He told me about the two of you, said that if your relationship was a problem, then he should be the one to change shifts, or if there was a problem because you're a gay couple, he'd be the one looking for a job tomorrow morning. Actually he made me promise that you would not have to deal with any, erm, 'bullshit' as he so eloquently put it. Of course I then proceeded to tell him that either of you are going to be job searching in the near future, or so I hoped. After what happened between Sara and I, I'm not going to say anything apart from congratulations. Oh, and he told me to tell you that he was sorry that he had told me about you two before you had a chance to discuss it. He also said that all of this was only valid if you still wanted to be with him after all of this, but when I pressed on that he changed subjects. If you keep up the level of discretion you've had these past few months, I really don't care what you do outside the lab. Now, he's not asking for a shift change or anything, but he did take a week's vacation starting tomorrow."

Vacation? To get away from me, I suppose. I would want to get away from me too if I had done that to myself. I guess that that's a definite 'no' on him being home when I get there. Maybe I should just go to mine tonight. I haven't been _there_ in a while…

"Thanks, Griss. I'll see you tomorrow then." No point in staying, I'm off the clock in five minutes anyway.

"Oh, and Nick?"

"Yeah Grissom?"

"He told me to tell you to pick something to eat up on your way home. He'll be there waiting for you, he got off of shift early. I sent him home; he didn't look too good. He said he wants to talk to you, and I quote, 'about the past three weeks'."

"Thank you, Grissom." I repeat.

After picking up some Chinese, I make my way home, ready once again to launch into a lengthy and impassioned speech on the future of our relationship.

My ears pick up the sound of sobbing while I turn the key in the lock and push open the front door. Greg is sitting on the couch with his back to me, crying as quietly as possible, rocking back and forth, a pillow clutched to his chest, the phone on the floor beside him. I hear the food hit the floor, but I don't feel my arms dropping it. My one and only concern is Greg. I _can't_ have caused all of this.

Wrapping my arms around him, I'm so relieved that he doesn't push me away like this morning that I pull him in tighter. He grabs at the fabric of my shirt so frantically that I can't help but feel that he thinks I am going to disappear.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby. I'm right here, and I'm not leaving you." It feels so good, so natural to have him here in my arms, to rub large circles over his back. I don't ever want to let go. "What's wrong, love? Talk to me. Is it me? Did I do all this?"

He shakes his head violently, spreading tearstains all over my chest. He pulls out of my arms and looks me in the eye. Nothing has ever in all my life made my heart and soul ache more than the sight of this man gasping for breath, tear tracks running down his cheeks, nostrils flared, and mouth slightly agape.

After a few moments of wiping his face and trying to breath evenly, he gets up, walks to the entrance hall, closes and locks the door, and picks up the food. Thankfully none of it has spilt. He takes it to the kitchen, presumably to place it in the refrigerator, and walks back to sit next to me, our thighs flush against each other.

"Don't interrupt me, okay?" I nod. "I have never, ever cheated on you, and I never will, alright? The truth is, I know you probably don't reciprocate- I mean…it's _me_- but I love you. I really do, I'm _in_ love with you. No! Don't interrupt! This is hard enough as it is…I never say I love you because I'm afraid that if I do, you'll disappear, it'll screw everything up. But now things are different." He pauses to look around, his eyes stopping to rest on the lamp to my left, but after a few seconds, he forces himself to look back at me. "I assume that Grissom gave you my message- that I was going to explain the past three weeks, and I will. Whether or not I just ruined the highlight of my life, because you deserve the truth, and when I really think about it, I know you deserve so much more than me, a better person, but I'm selfish- don't interrupt me, Christ!"

Greg shushes me and takes a deep breath; I've lost count of how many he's had to take this morning. "Three weeks ago…my mother called me. She told me that she was coming over from California, that she wanted to see me, but that I was going to have to go to her. She told me that she was sorry that she hadn't told me before, but that she hoped I'd understand. I learned three weeks ago that last year she was diagnosed with leukemia."

His voice is nearly emotionless. "She said she wanted to see me again before…before the end. Because she was down to her last month, and even then, it's not like there's insurance on how long you've got before you go. It was a month maximum. She couldn't leave the hospital anymore. All of the letters, emails, phone calls, and I never even suspected that something was wrong. I've been spending every spare moment I had in the past three weeks in the hospital with my mom. That's why I haven't been around much, that's why I haven't been in the mood for sex, and that's why I smell like cleaning fluid all the time. It's the hospital coming home with me." He breaks off, and fights to keep more tears at bay. I know he's not finished, so I don't say anything.

"Barely five minutes after I hung up with Grissom, the doctor in charge of her called. She's gone. When he told me I wasn't really sad that she's dead- I mean, I was, of course I was. But what really stuck with me was the thought that I hadn't told her about you, that she had never met you. My mother died without ever having met the man that I want to spend the rest of my life with…"

I honestly don't know what to say or do, and he seems to understand that because he looks up at me again and smiles the saddest smile I have ever seen. "Just hold me, Nick. Please, just hold me."

And I do. He's not crying anymore, but I press him into me, one hand on his lower back keeping him in place, and the other cupping his neck while he rests his head against my shoulder. There is only one thing I can think of saying that might help him.

"I love you too."

He stiffens in my hold, then snakes his arms around my waist. "Thank you." He whispers.

Unfortunately, we cannot stay like this forever, and long before I'm ready for him to, he pulls out of the embrace. There's only one more thing I need to know before letting this conversation go. "Greg, why didn't you tell me three weeks ago that you're mom was sick? I mean, why do all of this in secret?"

"I love you, Nicky, but three weeks ago, heck, three _hours_ ago, I was borderline sure you didn't feel the same about me. I always thought I was just some…fling, to you. You could do _so_ much better than me, Nicky. You don't exactly lay a burden like that on someone's shoulders unless you're sure they don't mind having it there."

I sigh. It doesn't matter anymore. "Whenever anything happens, no matter what it is, I want to be the first person you tell, Greg. I want to be the first person you trust. I love you…"

I kiss his neck and drag him off to bed for some seriously deserved rest.

**A week later**

The funeral was last night. Greg and I are at our apartment watching FAME. Apparently, it's his movie of mourning. I'm just glad that we're nearing the end of it, and that he's sitting between my legs, arms resting on my knees and back glued to my chest. That makes me happy too. But if he wiggles one more time against me like he's been doing for half an hour, trying to find a comfortable position, it will take a lot more willpower than I've got to stop me from ravaging him on the living room floor. Two and a half weeks without sex can do that to a man's self control.

Ahhh! He has got to stop rubbing against me like that! Ok, keep your hands firmly planted beside you on the ground, and don't breath his wonderful, inviting scent. That's good Nick…just don't move.

"Oh, for the love of God, Nicholas! I stopped actually watching the movie half a fucking hour ago! What are you waiting for, me to grind you into dust?"

He grabs my right hand and shoves it onto himself under the waistline of his sweatpants. He isn't wearing boxers underneath. This, my friend, is Heaven.

He pulls his own hand out as I curl my fingers around his soft, willing flesh and begin to pump. A single deep mouthful of air later, my lungs and veins are full of what can only be described as Greg. I could get off on his scent alone.

This is enough to get me hot, hard, and heady after going so long without this kind of contact. I lean foreword to softly whisper in his ear. "Care to take this to a more…comfortable room?"

He only moans as I give him a particularly rough tug. Once I've removed my hand, he turns around in our embrace and wraps his long luxurious legs around me, pressing our groins together. He lets out another moan at that and I bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming and coming just at that. I'm not usually vocal at all, but today I feel like screaming myself raw. I didn't realise I needed him so badly until this very moment.

Yet I can't help but note as I carry him to our room that although I have gotten him to eat more in the past week than he ate for the three before put together, he still doesn't weigh much. Not that that's saying much. The point is that he still doesn't weigh enough to be considered healthy. A slow, solid grind from him pulls me from my worries and into a world of, since we're on the theme, pure and utter bliss.

He kisses me, thrusts his tongue into my mouth and rocks against me in a primal dance, to a beat that only we can hear.

His walls close around me, encasing my flesh, making me feel so many things at once; safe, loved, hot, happy, ecstatic. And suddenly, I know. This is perfection, this is bliss, because even they have the capacity to evolve.

"Greeeg…"

I can't hold it in. He does this to me, changes me completely while making sure I stay exactly the same. I don't know if it's fate when we come together, at exactly the same moment, and quite frankly I don't care. Whether or not Greg and I are _meant_ to be together, we _are_, and I don't care if God or anyone else preordained it. All I care about, all I want and all I need, is Greg. Because when it comes down to it, really comes down to it, Greg really is my bliss. _He_ makes my world go round.

"You're staring again, aren't you?"

What can I say, I can't help it.


End file.
